Home
by Mistico Lobo
Summary: The Rock and a photographer, Jessie, have been forced into a game. How well will they play? PG-13 for language. Please R&R! ^_^
1. Vow

Author's Notes: First of all, this is my first wrestling story, so anything goes... I love feedback, especially *constructive* criticism. That's how you please writers! ^_^ But, please people, *constructive*... There's really no point in just saying "this sucks, that sucks" without a purpose but for the enjoyment of annoyed people, such as myself. There's no reason to do it, so to be blunt, piss off. OK! Notes part... ^_^ In this story, it's as if the story line was real. To explain... HHH/Steph are really married (were...?), Kane/Taker are really brothers... etc... Make sense? If not, I'm sure that it'll be caught on. To make my point, Rock is single. ^_^ There.  
  
Disclaimers: Usual apply... These do get annoying, don't they? X.X  
  
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Home ~ Prologue  
  
By ~ Místico Lobo  
  
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Pain. Hurt. Anger. Frustration. Betrayal. Such small words that meant so much. He had once looked at those simple feelings and brushed them off as if they were nothing more than gnats that stuck to his skin. But that was before they had hit them. Sure, he'd had his share of feelings of being betrayed and hurting, but never before had he looked at them as something he should lose sleep over. He would just brush past them and move on, not wanting to dwell forever. He couldn't afford it. Just how he couldn't afford it now.  
  
So many things had happened over the years... So many things that he didn't even want to remember. But he couldn't help but remember. He could never forget the feelings he felt then, nor could he ignore those feelings now. He was being used.  
  
Of course, he wasn't going to sit and mope about it. That wasn't what he did. Unlike the majority of others, he actually got up and did something about these situations. He knew from a young age that sitting and crying did not get you to the other side of the room where you left your stuffed animal that your mommy had given to you for your birthday last year. No, you had to get off your lazy, crying ass and get it your damn self. It was the same here, except Mommy wasn't here to give you anything, especially a gift-wrapped title. You had to work for it yourself. If you didn't, you'd stay at the bottom where all the shit and piss was that others gave you. That's just about all the gifts you would get, and that sure as hell didn't get wrapped in ribbons and bows.  
  
Sighing, he turned off the television. He had been watching various SmackDown and RAW episodes, not because he enjoyed watching himself get extended `breaks' but because...well, he didn't know. He felt that if he didn't watch them, he would wallow up into the abyss of depression and self-pity; two things that he completely despised in people. He would never go there. How could he? He had his fans to entertain. He had his career to keep him on track. He couldn't go there because he was already there. And it was killing him.  
  
Not physically, of course, but relatively speaking. He stood up from his couch, ignoring the pain that shot through his pain. 'No pain, no gain, right?' He walked to the window of his empty cabin. He didn't want to go to his house. He smirked. House... Not once had he been home. A home is some place where your heart rested, and that was definitely no where. Once upon a time, he would have said wherever the WWF went would be his home, but not anymore. He still loved the WWF without any hesitation; it was his life, but he felt as if he was becoming an outcast. He'd always *been* a loner, but never before had he felt so helpless, so alone.  
  
No use to worry about that, though. He'd been at the bottom before, and this sure as hell wasn't even close to the bottom. He would come back. He would show the whole WWF that he was the greatest thing that had happened to them, and soon it would be *they* groveling to him, begging them for forgiveness. And he wouldn't forgive them because if there was anything he hated more than whiners were beggars. When he came back, he would show everyone just how strong The Rock really was. One way or another, he'd do it. For himself.  
  
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So what do think so far...? Good? Bad? Like I said, all is welcome! But please, save your whining for yourself. 


	2. Photographers Are Moody

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Home ~ Chapter One  
By ~ Místico Lobo  
  
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Three weeks later...  
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He had been healed from his wound for over two weeks now, but the WWF wouldn't let him back. Not until he was 'fully' healed... Tsk. They were just afraid that he'd try to do something to Angle for doing what he did... He glared from under his shades as he stalked into the stadium where only privileged people, which meant no jabronis who were wannabe ass kissers (how most of the guys here got in, he didn't know), were allowed. Having a one-track mind, he didn't notice how beautiful the weather was outside in the city of Sacramento. It was three o'clock, but he had thought it would be better on his part if he should arrive before everyone else; not to mention that he had some...business to deal with.  
  
The sun outside was indeed very bright. It shinned through the glass, creating a definite happy glow inside the halls and rooms. The green, potted plants aligned evenly apart in the halls held perky leaves that reached toward the sun. Even the reflecting light on the mirrors and other various glasses did not waver his attention to where he was headed. Vince had been avoiding his phone calls and refused to return them. Face to face he couldn't run from him. There was no place to run.  
  
He stopped when his eye caught the familiar sign of his name mounted on a door. He hadn't realized that he had walked straight to the dressing rooms until he saw that small sign but, nevertheless, why waste an extra trip? Gripping the handles to his sports bag, he opened the door and stalked inside. He hardly paid attention to it as he threw down the bag on a bench. From his experience, if you saw one dressing room, you saw them all.   
  
This was no different from the rest, except for maybe the color, which was a lighter shade of brown. The wood was dark and smooth and he doubted that, should one look under a bench or somewhere inside the cubby cabinets, previous people who have been in this particular dressing room would be found. It was usually a tradition to inscribe your name in the places where you have been. In fact, the only difference of this room was that he wasn't alone.   
  
He hadn't noticed her at first; his mind was focused on how he would deal with Angle when he came face-to-face with him. He had even walked out of the door before he realized he had seen someone who had obviously no need to be in his dressing room... He frowned when he walked back in, observing her. She was struggling to put up a strobe. (They are the huge flashes on a rod. Remember school pictures and the two tall thingys with umbrellas on them? ::nods:: Those are strobes! ^_^) 'Strobe...?' he thought. Strobes were used for photo shoots! What in the hell was she doing setting up strobes in his dressing room, especially without his permission first? He frowned deeper as he walked over to her.  
  
"What-" he was cut off by her squeaking in surprise and a crash when the strobe. He jumped back to keep from being knocked over by the strobe she was putting up. When the falling noise had echoed away, the woman stood up, brushing her pants off, glaring at the mess. Obviously pissed, she spun around on her heel towards him.  
  
"Just look what- oh!" Her eyes widened in surprise, and a faint blush covered her cheeks. Like the majority of all women, she wore makeup; just not nearly as much as most sluts wore. She was wearing tight black pants, probably fake leather, that hugged around her legs, showing them off as if she didn't wear any at all. Her red shirt was also tight and was short, ending about four inches above her belly button. He was slightly surprised that it wasn't pierced. That was the trendy thing to do nowadays, wasn't it? However her right ear had a cartilage pierce, so it showed that she wasn't completely trendyless. She held herself in a manner that practically screamed 'I'm beautiful and I know it.' "I'm sorry. I didn't realize that you were the new assistant guy."  
  
He gave her a blank stare. Assistant guy...? How could anyone mistake him from an 'assistant guy?' Everyone knew who he was! Even people who had never watched the WWF knew who he was, how could this girl be any different? He had expected her to sputter something out when she was caught doing something she wasn't supposed to be doing, but never would he expect her to say 'assistant guy...' Or maybe she was just playing a game? A game where she would act all innocent and cute and when he 'revealed' who he was, she would widen her eyes in utter surprise and giggle, saying that she had no idea! Just how a chick would do... Well, he could play games too.   
  
She would have noticed his confused look had she not turned around, up righting the fallen strobe. "Could you please take this," here she handed him what appeared to be a cord, but in the world of photography one could never be too sure, "and plug it into the power source? And then take the sync cord plug it into the camera?" He took it from her without saying anything, looking around for something called a 'power source.' Using common sense, he walked over to a rectangular-shaped box with various cords hanging from it. He frowned as he looked from the cord he held and to the outlets. Shrugging, he plugged it into a random one before looking around for they sync cord, something he had absolutely no idea what it was.  
  
Figuring that he was just like the last assistant, she sighed deeply and turned around to face him after finally fixing the strobe. She wasn't very tall, maybe five-foot, four, or five at the very most. She had long wavy brown hair with red highlights, an unusual natural hair color she had inherited from her grandmother. She had also inherited her deep blue eyes, something that she had hated all of her life. Who had brown hair and blue eyes? A lot of people, but not her shade of blue or deepness of brown. When she turned to him, she giggled behind her hand. He had somehow managed to strangle his hand in the various cords.  
  
He had no idea he had done such a foolish thing. One minute he had been reaching for a cord, the next it seemed as if his hand was magnetic to each one. Anyhow, he had been able to get his hand intertwined his hand with them. He looked up at her when he heard a sound that sent shivers of...something up and down his spine. What that something was, he didn't know.  
  
Grinning, she sat on her knees next to the power source where his hand lay helplessly. "Well, it's no wonder why you couldn't do it. It doesn't help to have big hands. They must be terribly klutzy, I should think. No offense or anything." She grinned again at him as she began working on the cords. He watched her as she did so, not saying anything like before. There was something about her that struck a cord-he smirked at the pun-within him. Either she really did not know who he was, or she was a really good actress. He was willing to bet the latter as she finished. "There. Better?" She smiled when he nodded his thanks and stood up.   
  
"My name is Jessie, by the way. I doubt that Fred said as much, but I'm sure you know how hectic it gets down there." She began connecting the evil cords to what appeared, to him, to be some sort of large batteries. "I don't suppose that they told you why we're here either?" She looked over her shoulder and he shook his head. She smirked lightly, and in a joking manner, said "You should win the next 'most talkative' award. Anyway," she turned back to her work, "it doesn't surprise me. Mike didn't even know, and he's my partner." She sighed and shook her head. "We have to take pictures of each room that each wrestler stays in from here to the next five months. Then Fred and his men have to chose one room each wrestler from each stadium for some project the WWF wants." Each time she said a word relating to wrestling, it sounded like she was spitting it out.  
  
He cleared his throat, looking at her oddly. "You don't like wrestling?" She snorted.  
  
"Was that obvious? I hate it. I hate everything and everyone that has to do with it, regardless if it's a promoter, writer, or wrestler themselves."  
  
He frowned. "Then why are you here?"  
  
"I love photography. There aren't that many companies out there and sometimes you just have to take what comes your way." He could definitely relate with that. "The only plus about this job is that my baby brother works here now, and I hardly get to see him anymore because of this damn company. But don't get me wrong. I love my brother and I'd do anything for him, and respect his dreams. His dream was to always be a wrestler and who am I to say no to that dream?"  
  
He frowned at her, quite puzzled over what she had said. One minute she claimed to hate everything and every*one* in this company, and the next she claimed to love her brother. Also, he had never heard of anyone who had a sister with her description. She was obviously keeping things out. "Really..." he said doubtfully. "And just who is your brother?"  
  
She finished putting her camera together, which reminded him of an antique. "I doubt you know him," she responded with a wave of her hand. At that dismissal, he knew she was lying. She tried to brush it off as if it was nothing of importance. "Unless you are up on dark matches, that is. He's known as "The Black Avenger." She smiled sadly as the reason for the name popped into her head for what seemed to be at least the hundredth time in the past week. Her eyes softened at the memory of her father came with it, but she shook her head, clearing her mind.   
  
He quickly tried to think of anything related to what she had just told him, but nothing rung a bell. Most likely she was lying, so he shrugged it off. He had stayed to 'play a game,' except this game was hitting a dead end, if it had started at all. He was beginning to get bored of it and all this crap she was telling. Normally he would be 'talking' to her, catching her in her lies, but something held him back. For the second time that day, he didn't know what that something was, but he didn't worry about it. He had more important things to deal with anyway, so he decided to stop wasting his time.   
  
However she had different ideas. Taking his standing for another reason, she disconnected the sync cord from her camera to the strobe and handed it to him, expecting him to do something with it. "Alright. This one's done..." With that she began to take down the strobes. He frowned. She smirked. "If you keep up with that, you're going to get wrinkles."  
  
"You did all that work, only to take them down after a few lousy shots?" He would have helped her, but he thought better of it.  
  
"Yep. And put them in there," she pointed to a box he had not noticed before, "so I can carry them room to room. It's called a 'carry case.'" If he had known better, he would have thought she was mocking him. "And it'd go a lot quicker and easier if you helped me. He mentally winced as if he had gotten slapped in his head. He didn't know why he felt so guilty, but it was there nonetheless. Walking towards her back, he was about to reach for the second strobe when the door burst open. They both turned to see a tall man with shoulder length bleached hair. He was definitely the stereotyped surfer. He had an earring in his left ear and had his hair back in a loose ponytail. He was wearing loose pants that fell below his boxers and a tight, white muscle shirt. He was chomping on his gum and listening to some heavy-metal band that blared through his headphones. "'Ey, Jessie! Sorry I'm, like, so late!" he screamed over his music. She smiled and shook her head at his childish was and turned off his CD player. "Ah, Jess!" he pouted. "Come on..."  
  
"Not here." She turned toward her new assistant and pointed to a now speechless teenager. "This guy here is Mike, my partner. He's, well, very energetic as you can see, but he's a great kid, and extremely bright. He's one of those child geniuses that have those sad flaws to them; unfortunately his flaw is being the common surfer." She grinned at him, clearly a very close friend. "Mike, this is-eh..." her hand stopped midway up as she realized she had made a mistake. She laughed at her foolishness. "I'm sorry! I completely forgot to ask for your name."  
  
He smirked at her, now read to see her game's reaction. He opened his mouth to talk, but Mike had already put two-and-two together. "Jessie! Can't ya see that he's The Rock!" He grinned and jumped over to him. "I knew that this was a great job, Jess!" Surprisingly, his grin grew. "Can I, like, shake your hand, man?" Rock smirked again and offered his hand. He continued to watch her reaction through her various changes. At first it was complete and utter surprise. Sure she knew that he wasn't the assistant that she had asked for-it didn't take a fool to notice he didn't know a single thing about photography-but he had a certain, childish charm to him that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Maybe it was because of the hand incident, as that really was the only thing that he had done in the short time they were together, but never had she imagined that he was one of *them* Then came fury. She clenched her jaw and balled her hands into tight fists and glared at him, flushing deeply. She threw her equipment into random boxes and shoved them into Mike's hands before pushing him out the door.  
  
"It's the next one to the right. I'll meet you there," she griped.  
  
"It was totally cool meetin' ya, dude!" Mike grinned and walked out. It was obvious that he was still excited when he was halfway there as an echoed "Sweet!" was elongated throughout the hall.   
  
She picked up the remaining boxes and glared at him. She had felt humiliated and embarrassed. "I hop you rot tonight."  
  
"Don't get so upset at The Rock," he smirked. "He never deceived you into believing he was your-"  
  
"I don't care about that!" she glared as she looked over her shoulder. "A child could have seen that you don't know how to do anything right when it comes to photo."  
  
He narrowed his eyes at he. "Then why are you pissed at-"  
  
"Be careful with that box over there." She nodded towards a small shoebox under a bench. She left after talking, leaving a bewildered Rock behind as her last words echoed behind. "It has a bomb."  
  
  
  
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Author's Notes: When I was typing this, I realized how boring it seemed... I tried to jazz it up with the deleting and adding of certain sentences, but it was still kind of blah: empty. Hopefully the next chapters won't be as bad. ^_^;; 


	3. Goodbyes Are Such Sweet Sorrows

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Home  
Chapter Two ~ Good-byes Are Such Sweet Sorrows   
By ~ Místico Lobo  
  
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He knew that the box wasn't a bomb. She was nothing more than just some regular child who was probably...well...he didn't know what her intentions were, but he didn't care. She had attempted to scare him, but she did a pretty lousy job of it. He had more than enough worries to deal with than some chick with an attitude.  
  
He had beaten the living shit out of Angle that night on the previous RAW. No one had made an announcement of his return, so when he came running down the crowd had gone wild. It somehow surprised him that they continued to cheer for him, even though so much crap had been thrown at him since the month of his return. It had been a wonderful feeling coming back on that July night. He knew that his fans had anticipated the day when he would return, but never had he expected such a welcoming. And the giant hush that had followed the deafening cheer at the announcement of his staying in the WWF still brought goosebumps over his body. He did and always will work for the fans, for himself, and nobody else.  
  
And now his fans wanted the same thing he wanted, revenge. And it was times like these that he never wanted to let those millions and millions down. It was now Thursday and he was once again ready to lay the smackdown on Kurt Angle. The first thing he though of this morning when he awoke was how he would embarrass him in front of the people. Except there was a problem. He hadn't though of a way on how to embarrass him.  
  
One thing he prided himself with was that he was always up with fresh ideas. This wouldn't be the first time that he would go out there in front of the audience idealess, but something would always come to him. He'd never been left out in the dark before. In fact, he could think of many a time when his best promos were cut cold. But that wasn't what concerned him at the moment. Usually when facing anyone in a feud, he received some sort of threat, be it a letter, phone call, or whatever. This time he got nothing.  
  
'Maybe he finally realized that he's not always going to win,' he mused doubtfully. Angle was one of those many jabronis who never got the hint, even when you kicked their ass from her to Asia. 'One day he might, though.' He stopped walking and shook his head before proceeding. "Naw," he said aloud.  
  
Rock opened the door of his SUV after parking it at the local Gold's Gym. Not knowing why it was so crowded, he was forced to park down the street next to a dumpster. He grumbled as he shut the door. This hadn't been the first time he had been compelled to park next to them, and each time the stench of the garbage stained the paint right off.   
  
He always worked out before a show so he could be fully ready and try his best. Although there were times where he basically sucked, he always made it a pledge to do better next time. One of the mottoes he lived by was "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. There's always next time." You couldn't live for only one day, because if you do and lose, you'll wallow in self-pity for the rest of your miserable life.  
  
He entered the gym with his small sports bag filled with his usual items of five clean towels, cash for water-only ones of course-an extra shirt, gum, and his cassette player with the built-in radio. He always wondered why mp3 and portable DVD players came out before CD players with radios, but that's just the way those high-tech jabronis though, he guessed.   
  
Like always, he was submerged into a crowd of people who wanted his autograph, picture, handshake, or whatever. Someone had once asked if he ever got tired of all these people, and without hesitation, he responded that he could never get tired of *the* people because it was them who had made him where he was today.  
  
When the commotion died down, he was able to sit and work out. He put his headphones on over his ears after quickly finding a station that suited its purpose to help get his blood moving. Sometimes he thought while he lifted the weak weights, and sometimes a black, mindless cloud forced him to think of nothing. Either way, hours would sometimes pass by before he even realized it. Today was no exception.   
  
It was one-thirty when he looked at the clock. He had been there for over two hours and not one thought had gone through his mind except that he was going to beat Angle in the match tonight, no matter what happened. Picking up his third towel, he wiped the sweat from his brow and rapped it around his neck. He stood up and started towards the door towards his car as he thought about what he would do until the time he had to be at the arena.  
  
A smirk came onto his face when he recognized a familiar someone. It was that psychotic, mood-swinging photographer that had threatened him with a shoebox. 'Maybe that was Angle's calling card,' he pondered as he started towards her. He had nothing to do for a few hours, so why not waste it on someone who owed him? She had bothered The Rock, so he thought it was only far that he do the same to her.   
  
She was wearing the classic work out clothes chicks usually wore: black sports bra with the company's logo in the bottom left corner and matching biking shorts. If you could call them shorts, that is. If they were any shorter, they could easily be mistaken for a bikini bottom. He wouldn't be surprised if they were one of those now-popular t-string ones.   
  
He had just sat down next to her when she already noted his presence with a glare ahead of her, refusing to look at him. "Go away. I was here first." She was on the leg press so it was easy for her to grip the handles tightly in anger. Wasn't the five minutes enough? She had already noticed various other wrestlers there that morning, and this one-what was his name again?-already knew her feelings towards them. Maybe he had forgotten? She believed it, as most wrestlers were all show and no brains.  
  
"The Rock didn't know that this was a first-come, first-serve gym." He fixed the weights to his usual amount and sat on the seat.  
  
"That doesn't surprise me. It's quite usual to find impenetrable brains in those of Neanderthals." She regarded him slightly at the corner of her eye. He was looking at her with his right eyebrow barely raised. She looked back at her focused spot. "Impenetrable means that you are-"  
  
"The Rock know what it means, botcher. And he doesn't think that that was a very nice thing to say."  
  
"Oh, and that was something nicer."  
  
"'Nice' isn't in The Rock's dictionary."  
  
"And neither is 'intelligence' or 'humane' I presume."  
  
"Do you always talk in such big words?"  
  
"Do you always make fun of people?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then you found you just answered your own question, didn't you?" He blinked. He had never had a conversation quite like this before. Sure he had had some pretty unusual ones prior to, but they usually followed punches and kicking. He smirked at her, resting his heel on top of the weights.  
  
"The Rock did some research on your brother. He hears that he's pretty good."  
  
"Really? I'm proud of you for being able to lift something besides a can of beer."  
  
He sighed and scratched the back of his head, quickly becoming annoyed. "The Rock is trying to add that word in, and you're not making it easy."  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry." She stopped pumping her legs and looked to him. "I didn't realize that I was your teacher. But my friend is a great kindergarten teacher. I'm sure she'll be more than happy to broaden your vocabulary as well as teach you proper English. Unless you think you're Tarzan or something." She smirked and stood up.  
  
He frowned. Her words from Monday quickly passed over him at the 'or you'll get wrinkles' part and he quickly whipped it off. "Where are you going?"  
  
She didn't stop walking or even turn toward him. "Some place where Neanderthals or any other monkey-men are not permitted." Her laughter then left a trail behind her.  
  
He sat there for a couple of minutes after she had left, reflecting. What the hell just happened? She had just insulted him a handful of times and he had done nothing but sit there as if it had gone right over his head. Taking a deep breath and promising himself something cool to drink to pass whatever fever he held, he started back out.  
  
He breathed in the fresh air of the outside after closing the door behind him. The air inside was soiled with nasty smells of various body odor and God knew what else. He was just glad to be outside.  
  
The later events of that night were still fresh in his mind while he continued to think of ways to get back at Angle. He was starting to get a foundation of a plan when he turned the corner to his car, only to drop his bag in complete surprise. What had once been his beloved SUV now was smashed into something he couldn't begin to identify. The windows were shattered, all four sides had been done in, and it looked like something huge had landed on top of the hood. Whoever had trashed it had done a good job in keeping it in the formation of a rectangle. The only thing that moved from the wreckage was a small white piece of paper gripped between two pieces of metal.  
  
Enraged beyond anything that he had felt in years, he snatched up the note and quickly scanned it before crumpling it up. Written in very neat handwriting, it had said: Watch your back. Me don't like you. Me want you dead. Me will see you in Hell.  
  
He didn't know how she had done it, but he knew who had done this to him. He knew of one person who had threatened his life and made fun of him by his first person talk. And that was the woman he was just with. Except next time they met, he would be the last one laughing. 


	4. Warnings Fall Upon Deaf Ears

Author's Notes: I have a tendency to get writer's block easily: a curse all writers hate... But I have finally finished the chapter! Yeah! ^_^;; Anyway, thank you Diamond! ^_^ Your support was very encouraging... I don't think I've ever had someone urge me on like you did! ^_^ Thanks!  
  
  
  
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Home  
  
Chapter Three ~ Warnings Fall Upon Deaf Ears  
  
By ~ Místico Lobo  
  
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He stormed into the arena that night pissed as ever. He had spent the last three hours filling out reports about his car. He had told the police that it was Jessie who had done it, but they had brushed him off, saying there was no evidence, just suspicion.  
  
He felt no threat from her, only anger. He had just met this woman not a week ago, and already she was starting to get at him. From the beginning she had claimed that she hated all wrestlers. So why him? Why was she after him? Sure, he could understand why she opposed to wrestling, but why the hell go out after people, to try to 'destroy' them? It would get her no where but in shining spot in the happy house, more commonly called 'jail.'  
  
Knowing that these questions would probably never be answered, he tried to think about tonight's match. Unconsciously, he had begun to think of ways to get back at Angle, and so far he liked his idea. He wouldn't worry about lunatic photographers who squished cars for entertainment. He wouldn't worry about his life because she was... He shook his head. He was not only repeating himself, but he was thinking about it. Again.  
  
It was fresh on his mind, so it would probably take a short while to make it go away. If he would just focus on Angle, he wouldn't be thinking about such crap, now would he? He quickly stripped out of his clothes and jumped into the shower. He didn't know why, but showers always loosened him up. There was just something about the feeling of having water run down his body... That was probably why he always took one before a match.  
  
Afterwards, he wrapped a towel around his waist and walked out. His mind was now centered on the task he was about to perform as he slipped into his clothes. That was, however, until a knock came on the door. He narrowed his eyes slightly at the door before opening it. He wasn't expecting anyone, his promo was supposed to be cut in the ring. To his surprise, an EMT member stood before him.  
  
"Eh...Rock...?" the young man stammered. He was obviously nervous if he couldn't even recognize the extreme physique that was before him!  
  
He narrowed his eyes at the man. "No, it's the freaking Easter Bunny stripped of his pink fuzz because he got it tangled in all the machinery needed to make the chocolate bunnies for all of his admirers. Of course it's The Rock! What do ya want?"  
  
The EMT stuttered out that his match would be cancelled tonight because of Angle's unfortunate accident. Before he had arrived from the police station, Angle had been run over by a large black van. The van did not have a license plate, but ever knew who it was. Rock was the only one who would currently want him out. Not that his fans minded. They wanted him to win, not some whiney, crybaby. When he heard this, he glared down at the EMT.  
  
"You expect The Rock to believe you, you worthless piece of monkey crap? Well he'll tell you this, and to all of your-" he looked down at him with a scowl, "'friends,'" he emphasized the word, indicating another definition then just pals, "you better watch what you say and don't spread rumors about the Rock. Hell, never mind! The Rock could care less what you pieces of crap think of him, but remember that he's always watching, so if you should happen to say something exceedingly wrong..." He left it at that and slammed the door. Pissed, he kicked a bucket that was next to the door. He didn't care that the man just out the door was an EMT, one of the men that had helped him before. He didn't care that he had frightened him because of his size. And he most certainly didn't care that he had probably accused him of something he hadn't done. All he cared about was that his match with Angle had been suspended yet again, and God knew he wouldn't heal fast enough.  
  
He knew that people would turn their eyes on him, no matter what he told him. He knew he didn't do it, but he knew who had. That bitch had been set on ruining him sense the moment she heard his name. She had messed up his car, why not Angle?  
  
Knowing that Vince would use this as an excuse to kick him out for the night, he threw a towel into his sports bag. This wasn't the first time he would be kicked out for the night, and he knew that it wouldn't be the last. Normally he would have stayed, but he didn't bother tonight. He didn't give a damn what Vince said or threatened. In fact, he knew that one of his stooges would be walking up to his door and tell him to leave. He was surprised no one had arrived yet.  
  
His suspicions were confirmed by a knock on his door a few minutes later. He had slipped on his newest, sleeveless t-shirt and into his windbreaker pants. If he couldn't let out his anger, he could at least be comfortable. He opened the door with a snap of his wrist expecting to find some small goon with a bat. They were always the same, small boys with bats that made them think they had power. The sight always made him laugh; it was ridiculously funny. It was as if they were ants that could bite and did no damage except annoy people. Except this ant was no goon of Vince's. It was Jessie.  
  
His anger intensified as she pushed her way through the room. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" She didn't carry any large equipment like she had previously, but a small, silver digital camera. Or at least he thought it was a digital camera. By the way she was holding it, it looked as if it could be a small metal purse.  
  
"Look. I don't want to be here and you don't want me here. So let's make this fast so we don't have look at each other, kay?" She smiled sourly at him.  
  
"You have some damn nerve to come walking into here without an invitation." His glare hardened.  
  
"I'm sorry. I didn't know ape-men knew how to be civil." She lifted the camera from her and pushed a button. As she lifted it up, he walked over to her and grabbed it from her. "Hey!"  
  
"Your behavior gets tiring real fast. And so does this crap. What is it?" He looked at the camera with a scowl.  
  
She folded her arms. "It's a camera."  
  
"I know what it is! What are you going to use it for?" He looked up at her, still glaring. "If you push this button, will it explode the room?"  
  
She looked at him as if he had sprouted another head. "What are you crazy? That's impossible. I think you've been watching one too-many James Bond movies." She made a grab for the camera. He took a step back, holding it up.  
  
"Yeah, maybe, but I also thought that turning a SUV into a mutated rectangle of metal was impossible," his eyes narrowed again, "but apparently that could be done."  
  
She frowned. "I don't know what you're talking about. Give me my camera."  
  
"You expect me to believe that? That's what every crook says to the cop when they're caught."  
  
"Maybe so, but you ain't no cop." She made another move for him which he dodged just as easily.  
  
"How'd you do it?"  
  
She sighed, putting her hands on her hips. "Do what?"  
  
"Don't give me that crap! You know perfectly well what I mean!"  
  
"If I did, would I be asking?"  
  
He was silent for a moment as his eyes flashed down at her. "Back off. I don't want to see around my property, my career, or me. You totaled my car and then ran over my opponent. I don't know how you did it, but I know you did. You may have a thousand minions or you may only have yourself, but it doesn't matter." He thrust the camera at her. Grabbing his sports bag, he looked at her as if she were a vile creature from the other ends of the earth. "If you don't, I won't be blamed for the consequences."  
  
With that he left. He slammed the door behind him, leaving her stunned. He ignored everyone who acknowledged him as he walked out, nor did he stop to exchange words with Vince's man when he finally told him the news that he had to leave. He had rented a car before arriving at the police station and had half expected himself to find it like he had his own. For his checkbook's sake, it was in the same condition as he had left it.  
  
He jerked open the back door and tossed the bag in the seat. His mood hadn't cooled during his walk, and he doubted that he'd ever be the same again. And it certainly hadn't helped with Jessie's lovely visit either.  
  
Irritated, he slammed the door closed. As he turned towards the driver's door, he noticed a figure in the corner of his eye. He turned his head towards the figure and immediately noticed that something was wrong with the man. He was covered in a thick dark cloak and held a lit cigar in his unusually long, think fingers. It covered the top of his head, but not his face. But his clothes weren't what were odd about him. His face was crooked and placed in an odd position. His nose looked as if he was broken without any signs of bruising. His chin stuck out too far to the right and his upper lip flapped over the bottom. His eyes were smaller and beadier than Undertaker's. He had no facial hair, including no eyebrows. He narrowed his eyes and noticed he didn't even have eyelashes. A shiver shot down his spine as his eyes connected with his. He could only stare at him, transfixed. His lips lifted up in a sneer as he turned away, disappearing around the corner.  
  
Shaking his head he jumped into the car, locking the doors. As he drove out, he tried looking for the man who turned behind the corner, but couldn't find him. Another odd feeling washed over him as he remembered the look in his eyes. He had met a lot of people who didn't seem normal, but he had never met anyone quite like him. He pulled onto the street and headed towards this hotel, his mind still on the man. He wondered if Jessie and e were connected in some way. It wouldn't surprise him in the least, because they both were crooked in their own way. The man's sneer made a shiver run down him again. He had never seen anything of the like before. It was as if he were telling him something, something similar to what he had told Jessie in his dressing room. He ignored it with a shake of his head and a shrug of his shoulders. He'd received glares, threats, and even fights from fans before, so what made him any different? He was a fan of Angle's that had overheard about his accident and wanted to make his feelings known. What made him any different from any other fan? 


	5. Silent Warning

Author's Notes: lol… Thank you for your reviews, everyone…! ^_^ As for LA19, lol! No way is this a Mary Sue… I think MSs have no originality to them unless they pass a certain point. It's as if the author can't think of anything better to do then put themselves into the lead just because they want to "have fun" with their favorite character or whatever their reason… However, that does not go to say that I hate every MS. Actually, some can be quite well written; I just don't think that teenyboppers should be writing them the way they are being done.  
  


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Home

Chapter Four

By ~ Místico Lobo

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Self-conceited; arrogant; monsters; pigs; feigns… Whatever you wanted to say it all boiled down to one thing. Men. Oh, the nerve of some! They were all violent assholes who always had to blame others except for themselves for their mistakes. And not to name anyone, but "The Rock" was one of the worst she had ever had the displeasure of meeting.

She scowled as she put on her sweater. She didn't see how she herself could even fit in his sorry excuses. News had traveled fast, and when she had found out it was her being accused on demolishing his car, she didn't know what to think. Besides that he had no reason to point the finger of blame upon her. She already had too many problems to deal with then his.

Like this damn camera. They had made her turn in her strobes and camera equipment for this new 'top of the line' digital one. If this was for a professional project like they claimed it to be, then why would they force her to use this? It was then that she felt funny about this whole thing. Why were they even interested in silly old photos of rooms anyway? 

Sighing, Jessie closed the door behind her, leaving the little chip that the camera came with on the desk of Vince McMahon. Technology...it bugged her sometimes. People had their heads stuck in the clouds most of the time with the newest music player or how many pictures their new camera could hold, or even comparing who had the most features on their cell phones, that they failed to notice just how beautiful the sun shone or how many stars were really in the sky at night. It was refreshing to see just how clear the water could be and that, no matter what happened, life always went on.

She closed the door to her small Honda Civic but didn't start the car. Instead, she leaned her head back against the back of her seat and closed her eyes. Instantly, the picture of a short man with a beer belly was brought up. He had a short, white beard with matching, thick hair. He had cherry red cheeks and sparkly eyes. To any child he was Santa Claus. To his children, he was the best father that anyone could ask for. Both herself and Justin, her beloved brother, had adored him. She could still smell the freshly baked pumpkin pies he would make every Thanksgiving and the heart-shaped cookies-his own special recipe-for Valentine's Day. Their mother had left them when Justin was four years old and she had been eight. She had been tired, she explained, of being a mother and felt that her life was being weighted down with the responsibility. She had begged and pleaded with her mom, but it was to no use. She left before sunrise.

It was then that she had raised Justin as she was the only woman of the house. Their father never remarried and seldom went on dates. Instead, he devoted the rest of his life to them. He gave them all they needed and more, including the love that they needed at that time.

He had introduced Jessie into makeup and clothes and even taught her to dance. In turn, he taught Justin to play soccer, football, and any other sport imaginable. But the thing that always made the two come alive was wrestling. Jessie herself thought it was a dangerous sport and always frowned upon them when they turned it on. How could anyone like watching men, and women, beat upon each other for silly things like one guy looking at another guy's girlfriend the wrong way? Couldn't simple talking and conversation fix it? 

Well, whatever flowed their boat.

When Justin had said that he wanted to become a professional wrestler, she had also shrugged it off then. He was just a kid, only ten-years-old, so he'd grow out of it. Daddy thought it was the best thing in the world and couldn't be more proud. Nevertheless, she had stuck by him and urged him on just how their father was doing. Like he, she was always at the wrestling camp, watching him and his growth.

It was even where she started her first job. It was small because she was young at the age of fourteen, according to them, but if anyone would ask her now, she would tell them that it was hard work! She cleaned the floor and mats of sweat, blood, and even pieces of skin that had been accidentally scraped off. It was a nasty job, but, like the saying went, somebody had to do it. Luckily for her, she wasn't the only one. 

But while she got paid, the others didn't. Those people were usually troublemakers, though, and were forced to 'carry out' this punishment. She tried to stay out of their way, though, because she didn't want to be anywhere near them if they got into trouble again. If they did, she knew who would be blamed for their mistakes. It was always the same no matter where she went. 

A screech behind her made her start and she quickly looked behind her, frowning. A black SUV had its lights blazing in her direction behind her, stopped in the middle of the street with the driver door wide open. She looked around to see if anyone had gotten out of the car but failed to notice anyone. Thinking that there were so many crazy people out there - who would in the right mind leave an unattended car in the middle of the parking lot with the keys in the ignition? - she started her car and backed out. Turning the music on low, music from the musical composer Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber filled the air, relaxing her. Her muscles relaxed from the refreshing sounds of Michael Ball as she started out. She was slumped against her seat, mouthing the words to "Aspects of Love" when, out of nowhere, a man in a dark cloak stepped behind a corner and right in front of her. 

She slammed on her breaks and sat up straight, pissed. What the hell...!? She was about to get out of her car and tell him off, but at the look in his eyes, she stopped dead in her tracks. A shiver of fear ran down her spine as she stared into two empty, black wholes that were eyes and gripped onto the wheel. How could anyone look the way he did…? His face was so distorted; he looked more dead then alive. Fearing that he would make for her car, she quickly checked to see if the windows were up and doors were locked before looking up again.

He was gone.


	6. Second Visitation

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Home

Chapter Five

By ~ Mistico Lobo

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"So what time can I pick you up, man?" he asked. He had been looking forward to this occasion for some time and both had been planning it for over a few weeks. During those weeks, he had had many offers to go to the movies, visit friends, and even an invitation to some ball that was going on. Whatever. And now it was a time to get away from all the hell that had happened in the last few days. However, what he heard next over the thin, unseen line that connected his phone to the next would change those feelings.

"I can't make it." He was stunned. He could feel the blood that ran through his veins stop and those four simple, most used words rang through his head like how a bell echoed when struck by a metal rod.

At first he didn't know what to say. Anger flared within; replacing the frozen blood to the thick, fiery kind. He gripped his cell phone in his large hand. "What do ya mean ya can't make it?" 

"See, Uncle Max just got in today from the airport. I hafta spend some time with him, man. Ya know I haven't seen him in some time, and he's comin' on in his years…" His anger intensified. Uncle Max? The same Uncle Max that this guy had hated for years? The same Uncle Max that wasn't even his uncle, but a friend of his late father's? He felt hurt collide with the fury that raged in him.

"Ok. Catch ya later." He hung up. He didn't even want to hear his pathetic excuses. He knew damn well why he didn't want to go that night. It was because of his hatred for Michael. He probably had figured out whom he liked better and decided that he would stick with Michael instead of him. Fine then. He didn't give a rat's ass. If that was the way he wanted it, who was he to stop him? He'd never had a true friend before, so what made him think that he was starting now? 

He tossed the phone on the large chair and sat at the edge of the bed. Picking up the remote, he just looked at it blankly. If he didn't care, then why did it hurt so much? Why were there goose bumps poking from his skin and shivers running over him, if the heater was on? Why was he just sitting there, when he should be getting ready for the game? He knew why. It was because he was sad; depressed from the realization that his friend was pissed at him for something he had no control over. And now he was going to lose that friend and all he could do was watch. 

He had tried to ignore Michael's hidden harassment and smirks. He had even tried to be civil with him, but each time something would try to snap itself loose inside of him; trying to get his hands around his neck and squeeze every breath in him. But each time he would stop, and all because of Mathew. 

Stripping to his boxers, Rock turned off his lights and slid under the covers. It was ridiculously early, even for him, but he had nothing to do that night. Not any more at least. Tomorrow, though, he would get up and lose himself in his work, not caring about anything else. After all, nothing mattered. Most were the same in some way. Some had similar laughs and the same shape of eyes. Everyone, however, had one thing in common, and that was the same conceiving, backstabbing, hurtful attitude. And everyone was just whom he had to face tomorrow.

Window-shopping was something that she had always enjoyed to do. She could never afford to purchase any of the jewelry her eyes passed over nor the clothes she would try on. It was all fun and games for her as she would imagine to be some exotic princess or a wealthy duchess from England. 

She was there now, in one of the most expensive stores in San Francisco. She had all ready seen landmarks such as the famous bridge and Lombard Street, Fisherman's Warf, and the piers. Now she was walking by Macy's, gawking at the beautifully cut diamonds and rubies. Not particularly watching where she was walking, she failed to notice the man next to her. That was, until she bumped right into him. Cursing mentally to herself on her klutziness, she was quick to make an apology. Not a word escaped her dry lips when she saw the same man in the garage.

His mouth curled in a sinister smile as his lack eyes bore into her. "Hello." His voice was scratchy and deep. Hannibal could easily be his sibling. Not waiting for her to respond, he moved so close to her that she could smell a faint scent of lavender. "I'm sure you will have many questions, but this I will only answer. You, Jessie, are the crystal. The crystal is coveted by the master but owned by the fighter. The sphinx makes the riddles, which the master and the fighter must solve correctly. Should it be the fighter who falls, the resurrection will fail and die."

He turned around with his cloak billowing behind as he quickly strolled into an alley. She stood there, stunned and confused by his words. When he turned a corner, something clicked within her and she took after him. "Wait!" She chased after him, only getting glimpses of his cloak, as he would turn corners. She hurried faster, running deeper into the city. "Wait!"

He led her to a dead end. Panting from her sprinting, she looked around to see where he could have gone. Nothing. The only thing in front of her was a fifteen-foot brick wall in front of her, and no one, especially a man like he was, could have climbed it so quickly without the aid of a ladder or box. It was as if he had disappeared. Settling with that he had had probably gone to the right instead of left, she made her way back out, trying to figure out where she was. 

As she turned a corner, she was aghast to find that the most wretched creature was heading right towards her. Keeping her cool, she walked up to him, frowning. As she was about to question him, he stopped in front of her, a deep scowl on his face. His shades were held firmly in place by the bridge of his nose as he peered down at her. She felt slightly intimidated from the lack of seeing his eyes, but squared her shoulders to show that she wasn't afraid. "And what in the blue hell would a photographer be doing in the middle of a non-photograph zone?"

Rolling her eyes, she folded her arms. "A photographer can take pictures anywhere at anytime."

"And as anyone would know in any major city, hobos don't like their pictures taken." Unable to help herself at the mention of photography, Jessie grinned.

"And you know this because...?"

"The Rock knows more then just wrestling."

"And photography's one of them?" she smirked.

He would have made a smart-ass remark if a strange, but familiar, whisper didn't float in the air. It was in a language that he should have known but did not understand. Looking around, he tried to find the source of the deep, scratchy voice which caused him to be oblivious of his acquaintance's own searching. 

However, she noticed his. She instantly recognized the voice as the man whom called himself Sphinx. She also saw Rock's deep frown from anger. She was perplexed to discover this as she began to question her own sanity. Maybe this Sphinx guy was just some crazy old man? Just some homeless loony? But he had sounded so sure and didn't choke over his words like some nutty guy would.

As if sensing her stare, Rock looked down at her, still frowning. Maybe he was going insane? "What?"

"Did you see him too?"

A cold shiver ran over his spine as he remembered the cloak guy with the messed up face. "Too?"

Her eyes widened in surprise as she pointed an accusing finger at him. "You did! Did he give you a creepy story and a name? What were you? Boulder?" He frowned.

"As a matter of fact, he did rattle off some trash about Egypt or something."

"Sphinx?"

At his odd look, she knew it was true, and that he, too, had been a victim in some child's play. "He called me the crystal."

"The fighter. What kind of a crazy, fucked-up name is that? 'The fighter.' The Rock's trembling from fear." She rolled her eyes at his sarcasm. "He was just some freak on the streets."

"Then why were you following him?" Again, she folded her arms as he scowled at her.

"That is not your business. Now, the Rock has to go get ready for a match." He spun around on his heel and began to stroll off, the scowl still on his face. He groaned inwardly when she followed him.

"Look, I think-"

"You can think?"

"-that maybe this guy, Sphinx, was telling the truth. About...something. I don't know what yet, but I'm going to find out. I don't think that he would just come up to complete strangers who just happen to know each other and rattle of the same thing that makes some sort of connection. Maybe we should go look for him and go find out some answers, don't you think?" She looked up at him with some sort of excitement. She had forgotten about his wrestling and, for a moment, thought that she would be able to be in some sort of adventure for the first time in her life. 

"The only thing that the Rock thinks is that you should go run along and play with your little dollies and tell them about your exhilarating day. The guy was playing with our heads, something that all hobos do. If you had any brains in your head at all, you'd know that."

For once, she didn't take the insults seriously but glared at him nonetheless, folding her arms again. "So you're telling me that you think it was just coincidence that he picked us out of everyone on the street? What made you go out in public anyway? I thought that you superstar people stayed in doors."

"Please don't tell me that you're one of those mystic, fate-believers?"

She was silent for a moment, trying to figure out what she believed. She had never believed in fate before, but for some reason, even though it was a simple line, she began to question herself. "Yeah, I guess I am now."

"You're just as crazy as that old man. He told you some crap and you believed him that you're this jewel or crystal or whatever. I'm no 'fighter' and you're no 'crystal.' You're just like every other chick on the street and there's nothing you can do about it. You know what? Just go ahead and believe him. I don't care what you do. Just don't drag me along." 


	7. The First Riddle

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Home

Chapter Six

By ~ Mistico Lobo

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Days had passed and they were now in the city of Los Angeles. She had only seen Rock through the halls, but every time he would see her, he would give her a look before going in the opposite direction. His avoiding her was annoying her worse then the questions she wanted to ask. Had he heard from him again? Or the voices? She hadn't been able to find any traces of Sphinx either. That was, until she receive a note from one of the guards who had been told to deliver it to her. 

What peeked her interest was the melted wax stamp that sealed it. The wax itself was red, but it was the stamp she thought was pretty. It was of a starburst with many lines and dots; both curved and straight. She took her time in opening it because she wanted to keep the wax in tact.

She read, written in perfect calligraphy, yet again simple words. _The crystal is the messenger. Seek out the fighter and the master. The crystal befriends the two but wares them. You have only met the fighter the master will soon make himself known. Bare the following to the fighter for it is his first riddle. Answer correctly and he will pass and find the next. If he fails to by this time tomorrow, he will come in contact with an enemy of warning: High in the tower she rests; high in the tower she waits. In the ballroom she dances until the stroke of twelve. But what you seek is where the echo sings back._

In order to fully comprehend what the note had said, she had to read it over four times. What the hell was this? She knew it was from the Sphinx; it couldn't be more obvious from the riddle. She didn't know what to make of it, but maybe it would be best to force Rock to stay put long enough to read it.

"It's Snow White's wishing well."

"What?" she asked as she took back the note.

"Don't you know Disneyland? It's talking about 'Sleeping Beauty' at first and then 'Cinderella.' Ya know, she rests 'cause she's dead and the strike of twelve. Haven't ya ever seen those movies before?"

She felt a blush rise in her at her ignorance. Of course it was. They were in LA, right? Anaheim was right next door, practically. That's where Disneyland was and Cinderella's castle. Right next to it, in the courtyard, was Snow White's wishing well where a recording played of her famous "I'm Wishing" song. Her echo sung back. "So that means we have to go there and go get the next." She grinned at him when he frowned. "Maybe the master will be there."

He mimicked her and rolled his eyes. "You're so stupid. This guy is sick. He's just playing games for his enjoyment and you've fallen for it. Look at his," he said as he snatched the note from her and repeated the part about his failure. "It's empty threats. No one's been able to do anything before, and no one ever will. Screw 'this enemy.' It's just some fan of Angle's that's pissed 'cause I beat 'im. Whatever he has planned for the Rock, he can take it. Like he always says," he put on his sunglasses with a slight scowl and lifted his hand, "'Just bring it.'"

The way that he looked with his hand out was funny, but with that combined with his knowledge of Disney, information that she didn't even know, was just too much for her and began bursting out in laughter. "That is hilarious!"

Nothing could convince him now that this chick needed serious help. "What?"

"Anyone who looks at you sees this big, strong guy with a major attitude. No way could ya have a weakness. And if ya did, I wouldn't think it would ever be Disney!" She continued to laugh while he tried to find the humor in it.

"What's wrong with Disney?"

She began to stop laughing at his seriousness, but slowly. "I just thought it was funny. So who's your favorite? Donald?" She grinned then, but when it was obvious that he wasn't going to answer, she scoffed at him and folded her arms. "You really do need to learn to loose up. When was the last time you actually smiled?"

"Yesterday." Short, simple, to the point.

"A real, happy smile?"

Too long for him to remember... He couldn't think of a time he was truly happy to have a 'real' smile. "Is there a reason why you're still here?"

"You need to go to Snow White's well."

"And when is that? The Rock has told you once, and he'll tell you again. He's too busy to play little kid games."

"But he can watch Disney movies... Ok, Mr. High and Mighty, what are you too busy with?"

"I have a date."

She was surprised at that. She didn't think that he had a good enough heart to catch the eye of anyone. "Yeah?"

He was silent for a moment before smirking and starting for his destination. "With the vending machine."

The day had passed and nothing out of the ordinary occurred. He hadn't wrestled that day but only cut a promo. Nothing special. At least according to Vince. But, whatever. He didn't care what he thought. A promo was a promo, and its what made the people happy. Therefore he was happy.

Then why did he feel so shitty? He had driven up to a hill overlooking the city the next afternoon just for the sake of wanting to know that there were people in this gigantic city. It was funny, because as large as it was and how big the population extended, he felt alone. From his seat on the bench he watched lovers walk hand-in-hand under his French burette and through his dark shades. He had more money than what he knew what to do with and could buy anything he wanted. Hell, he could even have a personal prostitute if he wanted, but it was love that he wanted, not some chick selling her body. That's all that he would ever come across anyway. When he was close to, perhaps, finding even the 'ok' ones, it was all out of lust for them. 

It was dark by the time he started making his way to his car. Because of the chilly air, his hands were in his pockets. His head was bowed as he looked at the small pebble that he was kicking. Maybe it was better to just forget everyone. They were all bullshit anyway. 

Opening his door he slipped inside. He put the key in the ignition but didn't start it yet. Love was for fools anyway. Just how all the songs say... It was better to just move one with his life and accept that he would be alone for the rest of his life. It would be easier on him anyway, since he wouldn't have to worry about cheating and divorces like so many others in this world. 

He was about to start the car when he heard something in the seat next to him. Frowning deeply, he looked down only to come face to face with one of the vilest creatures ever to slither on God's green earth. A cobra, its body fully erect, stuck his tongue out at him, testing him and smelling his fear. His eyes widen and he froze, his hand still on the key. What the hell was this!? 

Carefully, with his left hand, he made to slowly open the door.  Careful now. No sudden movements. He had managed to put one leg out the door when the snake struck out. He leapt out of the car with his back turned to the monster and rolled on the ground. The snake now sat on his seat, ready to strike again. He jumped to his feet, trying to get away from it as it made its move. Although he had managed to miss it again, the black cobra was just as quick. Its tail curled under it as it hissed at him, its tongue sticking out once last time. It slithered off then under the bushes. Then everything was quiet except for the frantic beatings of his heart. 

Was that just coincidence that an Egyptian Cobra had managed to find its way into his locked up car, or was this guy for real? Either way, he had almost died. With just one bite, well, he didn't want to think of the consequences. And people had the nerve to say snakes were good? He made a thorough look of his car before he settled in. He wasn't going to take another chance that there was another one of those pieces of shit about to take a chomp out of him. 

While looking, he found a single white piece of paper with the wax stamp identical to the one Jessie had. He opened it roughly, pissed. He knew who it was: _Strike one._


	8. Lions

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Home

Chapter Seven

By ~ Mistico Lobo

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Jessie had spent the day at the hotel at the pool, but hadn't swum. Instead, she took her camera with her and took pictures of the laughing children and family. Something that she always regretted about working inside was that she never got the chance to take natural pictures. Not to mention wildlife. She thought that this unaffected beauty was something mankind hadn't been able to poison because, without denying it, man was a hideous creature. Too many were too cruel.

It was night now. She couldn't see the stars that well due to the city's overwhelming lights. The last time she had seen the stars clearly was on the last camping trip that she and her brother and father had gone on. She had just gotten off the phone with Justin, her brother. Like always, he did most of the talking about how well he was doing and that he might even be able to leave the dark matches. She was happy for him, even if she didn't want him to do it.

She had just put down the phone when it rang again. Knowing it was Justin who had just realized he hadn't said anything about Charlene, his girlfriend and probably soon-to-be fiancée, she laughed, picking it up. "So when are you going to propose you big log? There's some major anticipation over here, ya know."

"Last I knew, you had to actually like the person you're gonna marry."

Jessie, shocked that it wasn't her brother, quickly sat up from her slumping on the couch and frowned. She knew who it was by the pitch of his voice. "How did you get my room number?"

"Bribery goes a long way, ya know."

"Of course it does. Sorry. I guess I should have asked how long you had to fuck the receptionist," she smirked.

From the other side of the phone, Rock raised a surprised eyebrow. He wouldn't have thought her to be the vulgar kind. "Actually, _he_ wanted some extra spending money."

"You paid for my number?"

"You think I'd waste money on a kid? I just showed him what he would get for dinner if he didn't give it to me." 

She laughed. " A 'club sandwich?'"

"Yeah, somethin' like that." Wanting to cut to the chase, he put across, "I got a visitor tonight."

She became serious then and frowned slightly. "What?"

"An Egyptian Cobra snake from our friend." As he told her what happened, she was silent and tried to let it sink in. Those were obviously deadly. Weren't they supposed to help him? Why had he tried to kill him? "You still there?"

"Yeah. I guess it just took me by surprise. Are you thinking about doing this now...?"

"Only because this guy is gonna pay for sending that snake out. The police aren't even gonna bother search for it tonight. Next time I see him, I'm gonna..."

"…do nothing to him," she interrupted.

"What?" he questioned, surprised she had cut him.

"If he was able to put something like that in your car, when you were near by, don't you think that he could do something worse? He obviously knew where you were, so what makes you think that he doesn't know that you want to get him back? Not to trick you or anything, but if I were you, I would do what he wants. Ya know, get on his good side. He's probably expecting you to do something now anyway. I'd wait until he doesn't expect it."

For the first time since he met her, he actually listened to what she had to say. But when he realized that she was right, it shocked him. She had said something right for a change. And he even admitted it. After a while, he scratched the back of his hand. Dammit. "I would usually say that there would be no way in Hell I would listen to anyone and have them tell me what to do, but if it means to keep away from snakes, fine."

She grinned at his answer. "What's wrong with snakes?"

"Nothing. If they're as far away from me as they possibly can be, then everythin's fine."

She laughed again. "You're afraid of snakes?"

He scowled behind the phone. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, not at all." After a moment of trying to control her laughing, she, yet again, let loose. "First Disney and now snakes. Oh my god, what could possibly be next? Do you sleep with a fuzzy pink bunny?"

"And if I did?"

She stopped in shock. "You do?"

"Of course I don't! I ain't a freak." Instead of laughing, a short giggle took a hold of her.

"OK, OK, I'll leave you alone now. But it's not my fault if I got onto your good side."

"And what makes you think that?" It was certainly news to him.

"Well, are you pissed at me right now?"

"For the time being, no."

"I was talking to Justin earlier and I started to tell him about you and..."

"What did you tell him?"

"Oh, just that we were playing so psychopath's game. Oh, and also that I got a new note saying that you had to show up at some restaurant by eight o'clock." It was not ten-thirty. She laughed before he could blow her off; she knew he would. "I'm just kidding."

"Notice how hard I'm laughing." He wasn't.

"You really need to loosen up once in a while. Life's too short. Anyway, you just proved that you don't mind being around me."

"And how's that?"

"You say 'I' instead of 'the Rock' or 'he.' Like I was saying, I was talking to Justin and that was brought up and he said that you always refer to yourself in third person except when you're pissed. I knew that you couldn't possibly be all the time with me, so I figured that you had to be relaxed." Regardless to say, he was stunned. He _had_ been saying 'I' instead of his alter ego – safer – side. When the Hell did he start saying that!? "I did get a letter today though..." she said after a while. "Do you want me to read it to you?"

Anything to get off the topic. "Shoot."

There was a ruffle of papers as she looked through her binder of photos. "_Hear the thunder, see the lighting. Hear the lion's roar, see the stars change. Look for these and you shall see that in the giraffe with the red bow holds the next clue. Be there by eight o'clock in two days._ And that's it. I'm more at a loss for this one than the last."

He frowned as he listened. Where the hell could this be? "We're supposed to go to Las Vegas next, right? It's probably one of the hotels."

"Or more. I mean, you can see and here lighting at Treasure Island, right? And the lion's roar at the MGM. But I don't know anything with a giraffe." 

"Maybe, but why would he send me to different places at once? It could be a picture."

"With a giraffe in a red bow? It sounds to me that you have to go around finding crap or something. Sounds really gross."

"They don't have any zoos there, do they?"

"Not that I know, no." They were both silent as they thought about it. Finally, after a few minutes, Jessie sighed as she looked at the clock. "Look, it's getting kinda late and I'm tired. And I have to drive tomorrow so I guess I should be letting you go." He didn't respond at first because he was lost in thought. Damn these riddles! "You still there?"

"Yeah. All right, sounds good. I'm drivin' too." He smirked. "Better get up early to the buffet or it'll all be gone if you get there before."

She scoffed in reply. "That had better not be in reference to me being fat."

He gave a slight chuckle before hanging up. "See ya."

When he hung up, she only rolled her eyes and did the same. She wasn't that fat was she? Standing up, she went to the mirror to see. She didn't look it. At least not in her perspective. Maybe she shouldn't have eaten all that dessert in San Francisco? She couldn't help herself! It was all the finest cakes and pastries and... She stopped and looked at herself in shock. She looked fine to her and that's all that mattered. When did she start caring what he thought anyway?


End file.
